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“Right now. It’s quite simple, Thalia. I don’t intend to ask you to complete the bond. You may practice your faith here, receive visitors, come and go. You don’t need to give up anything else to satisfy this agreement.”

“You don’t intend to marry me?”

I’d expected relief, perhaps suspicion of some hidden motive. Instead, she sounded as though I’d taken something else from her. I kept my hands at my sides, biting back a rushed string of explanations.

“I won’t make you share my bed just because your father promised you would.”

“Then you should have said so before I left. Or at least, last night.” Her breath caught. “I’ve already renounced my vow, Eryx. I’ve already said goodbye. You can’t send me upstairs and expect me to be grateful for your neglect.”

The asphodels stirred against my leg. I’d been concerned with what she shouldn’t have to do for me. She was asking what sort of life she’d come here to lead. I should have considered that, too, before treating her arrival as the end of a difficult negotiation.

“I should have told you sooner,” I admitted. “But I mean what I’ve offered. Your time here belongs to you.”

“Then I’d like to spend some of it speaking to the man whose house I’m living in.” The edge in her voice sharpened. I couldn’t blame her for it. “We could share a meal. You could sit with me long enough for us to have a conversation.”

“I don’t eat,” I answered, instantly regretting the blunt truth.

“You could still sit down. Surely you’ve spoken to someone while they ate.”

Of course I had. Bion could stretch an entire supper with his complaints about a broken hinge. I’d never mistaken listening to him for an obligation. Somehow, I’d failed to offer my own bride that same simple courtesy.

Thalia wasn’t asking for much. Something small, something I could give without touching her. But agreeing would lead her to believe I was willing to act as her husband. And I couldn’t do that. Not when she deserved so much better.

“I think it would be better for us to remain separate,” I told her. “You’ve had very little time to consider what you want for yourself.”

“I’ve just told you what I want.”

Her quiet reply left me with nothing useful to say. She had told me exactly what I’d done wrong. I’d heard her perfectly well, and pretending otherwise would only insult her again.

“All right,” she said at last. “I won’t keep asking.”

She passed close enough for one of my serpents to stretch toward her. I watched her walk away in silence. The conversation between us hadn’t gone well, but in hindsight, I shouldn’t have hoped it would.

At my feet, the asphodels rustled, thriving on the Blight I carried. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have thought they were mocking me. I hadn’t entered this marriage intent on hurting an innocent woman. Now that I had, I didn’t know how to make it right.

My husband is an infuriating idiot.

I marched back into the manor, leaving him behind in the courtyard. He clearly thought he was giving me freedom. It wasn’t what I’d asked for, but that apparently didn’t matter.

With the shutters open, the hall was brighter than it had been yesterday. I walked past the stairs, unwilling to let them draw me back to that room. There had to be somewhere in Petrion I could stand without remembering how foolishly hopeful I’d been.

Leaves rustled beyond an open doorway. Under the sound, a familiar summons reached me. I stopped with my hand against the wall. The Forests were calling. I knew that pull as surely as I knew my own name. For a moment I could only close my eyes and listen.

Come, daughter. There is hurt here.

This gift had been with me for as long as I could remember. The Endless Forests guided my steps, yes, but they also told me where I was needed. And no matter how stubbornly my groom turned me away, the Forests never would.

“I’m listening,” I whispered. My voice was unsteady, and I swallowed hard. “Show me where.”

The call drew me into a passage, away from Eryx and toward the soul in need. In this wing of the house, Bion hadn’t made many repairs. But I didn’t mind. I just kept going.

Finally, I ducked under an overgrown canopy into the courtyard I’d seen from my window. The fig tree leaned over a low wall, its roots lifting the paving. Something struggled beneath the lowest branch. When I hurried closer, a hare was dragging itself toward shelter, one hind leg trailing uselessly.

“Oh, sweetheart. Stay where you are.”

The little animal tried to scramble away at the sound of my voice and collapsed onto its side. I crouched before it could hurt itself further, keeping my hands low. Blood had matted the fur along its flank. I couldn’t reassure a frightened creature with mere words. I had to prove I meant no harm.

I pressed one palm against the earth and reached into the current. Life stirred beneath the paving, through the roots and small creatures sheltered among them. I let the current pass through me toward the hare, easing its pain before I touched it. Its ears remained flat, but the frantic movements slowed. Only then did I slip my hand under its belly.